Heartfire
by JubileeProductions
Summary: Love is such a fragile tether from one person to another. So easily does it snap. (A Plethora of Genres - Romance, humor, drama(?), adventure, dementia. Take your pick).
**First off, I'd like to say that I am** not **an otaku. I do not watch much anime, and I can't stand any subbed version (reading and watching the show simultaneously makes enjoying the show near impossible for me). So if you're wondering why I'm not ending names here with 'sama' or 'chan' is because they never refer to those terms in English dub. Well, as far as I've seen.**

 **Goodness, I have been gone for too long.**

 **For those who don't know me, I am TheWildeFiles (as you can probably tell from my profile name if you aren't an idiot), and this is a story about Mirajane, who is my favorite character from the Fairy Tail franchise. And no. Not because of her chest. She just is.**

 **Anyhow, it has come to this writer's attention that most every fanfiction I've seen exclusively featuring Mirajane either portrays her as a (putting it painfully here) whore or an oversexualized (as if she wasn't sexualized enough in the series alone) sex symbol for boys and gay girls.**

 **You disgusting pieces of poop. You know who you are.**

 **Yes, I love Mirajane, and I just want a good story which can portray her** well **and** correctly **, and since I have never seen such a thing, I thought 'Why not do it myself?' And so I did.**

 **If any of you know of a good Mirajane story, PLEASE feel obliged to tell me of it. Writing is so much more troublesome than reading, lemme tell ya.**

 **But hey, I loved writing this. So win-win, right? Hope you enjoy!**

 **WARNING – This is a Mirajane x OC (Hey, give the Ocs a chance) Fanfiction, and will address the issue of love** maturely **and** wisely **. If you prefer lemons and mindless, plotless smut, go to the darker corners of the internet. May contain demonic elements.**

 **DISCLAIMER – Oh yes. I totally own Fairy Tail. That's why most female characters in there are** _ **half fricken naked.**_

…

 _PART I - MEETING HIM_

It was a dreary evening, at best. The sky was lament over the city of Magnolia, and the clouds shrouded the stars and moon from view, not that Mirajane had planned to stargaze. She walked down the cobblestone street, her high heels clicking gently with every step. She held above her head a purple umbrella, and under her arm were two large volumes, which was the reason why she was out in this downpour.

The novels she had borrowed two weeks prior were overdue. Mirajane felt embarrassment rise to her cheeks as she thought of returning to the library with overdue books _again._ Though she never met the owner of the place, she was quite sure _he_ has heard of her by now.

The fee of lately returning books costs a minimum of 3 jewel, and it never effected Mirajane's bulging funds (as a massively successful wizard model). Nevertheless, it was still embarrassing, and the platinum-haired beauty dreaded facing that cranky librarian again, with that stern expression that screamed revulsion at the very sight of her.

Mirajane stopped and took in a deep breath. She had arrived.

It wasn't a particularly massive building, unlike other libraries which boasted such fantastic-quality volumes of books and mythical scrolls. It was about three stories tall, but was made from mismatched stonework that had a charming quality to it.

 _Here goes,_ Mirajane took in a deep breath, rearranged the books under her arm and was about to attempt to knock on the front door with her foot, when the door swung open.

With a yelp, Mirajane stumbled back, just catching herself at the edge of the slippery stairs that led up to the door. A grumbling old lady with a sneer permanently etched into her ancient features hobbled out of the library and passed Mirajane without so much as a glance, or an apology.

 _Geez, what's her problem?_ The wizard model quirked a brow at the retreating figure as she caught the door, recognizing her as the familiar and terrifying librarian attendant. Mirajane stepped into the library and folded her umbrella with a swish and _click_.

Maneuvering with more ease now that she could hold her small stack of books with both arms, she softly rose her voice into the candle-lit space. "Hello? Anybody here?"

No response came.

With evident ease supporting her heavy load, the young wizard shuffled across the open and vacant lobby, and into the library itself. It was a beautiful place, shelves of old oak that reached the ceiling, and the smell of old parchment and smoke wafting through the air.

The place was only mildly dusty, and was lit by candles. So many candles. This is one of the many reasons Mirajane loved this place. Most modern facilities were lit by electricity or fairy light, but this place just gave off an old, loving vibe when it is just you, the fire, and the books.

Taking up a candle set upon a hip-high stack of geographical volumes of Fiore, Mirajane made her way to the desk where books are to be returned. And she stopped.

A new attendant was sitting behind the desk. She could see this person clearly, for he was splayed over the wooden surface of the desk, snoring softly. Mirajane had to stifle her ensuing giggle at the almost comical sight as she approached the desk and the snoring librarian.

She had hoped that she could set the books down and be done with it, to just leave, maybe pick another book out along the way and spend the night reading in her apartment. But just as she reached the snoring librarian, he snorted to alertness and sat up.

"Ummgh... whuzzgoinon?" He rubbed an eye and blinked owlishly up at Mirajane, who hid her amusement behind her stack of books.

"Hi there," Mirajane said through her soft giggles, "Um, hi. I'm here to return these two books," she set them down on the surface of his desk, then blushed, "They were overdue by a week. I'm sorry."

She saw now that the man was young, maybe just her age, if not slightly younger. His hair was chocolate-brown and long, pulled out of his face in a ponytail, yet two thick, curling locks of hair framed his thin, fair face. His forest-green eyes shone in dancing flame of the candle positioned just to his left, and they were large and watery with weariness as he gazed up at her, lips slightly parted.

"Umm, *ahem*," he coughed into his fist and grinned up at her, "Hi. Uhh, and you are?" He blushed at his impoliteness and coughed again, "Oh, sorry. Still kind of, you know, tired." He chuckled nervously.

The wizard smiled, "Oh, it's okay, sir. I'm Mirajane Strauss."

"Mirajane, huh?" The young man finished rubbing his eye and pulled the two overdue books closer to him, opening to check the due dates. "I swear I've heard that name before. Are you famous?"

Internally, Mirajane sighed. This was the usual cycle of introductions. She'd say her name, the other person would recognize it, and before long they were drooling over her in magazines. It's not that she minded starring in Sorcerer's Weekly. It paid well, since she couldn't bring herself to take any real wizard requests. But lately she has just been wanting to be left alone. To the masses, she was just… a name and a body. Not much more.

But she wasn't about to lie to him. "I'm sure you have," her smile was fake, "most people have heard the names of Fairy Tail wizards."

His eyes widened. Here it comes. "Fairy Tail? You're a wizard?" He smiled, "I've read all about you, I mean wizards. Look," after stretching, and lifting a necklace from under his robe (which was suspiciously reminiscent to a bathrobe), he focused on staring at it.

The necklace was a simple smooth, round amulet of a blue and violet hue, swirling together like a whirlpool. It was beautiful, simply put. But what was he doing?

Mirajane felt awkward just standing right there, right before the desk of her doom where she'd accept a fee and pay it and leave and spend the rest of her night _alone_ … and he, this young man, this _boy_ , had fixated his gaze on his pretty little stone, as though he was hypnotized. He grunted with strained effort, and sweat soon dotted his brow.

Then she felt it. _It_ was merely a nudge, a trickle, a raindrop of magic, and it rippled gently through this boy's soul and extended forth, simultaneously invisible and vibrant, to pour power into the amulet, which then began to give of a soft glow to wash over his and Mirajane's faces in its luminosity.

A genuine smile was coaxed forth from Mirajane's lips, her eyes mixing with the colors. The amount of strain it took for this boy to pull off such a simple trick was pitiful, laughable, but the S-Class wizard took no notice, and just bathed in its ethereal beauty.

"Nice, huh?" He smiled, "My name's Gen *****. Well, it's _Eugenides_ _ *****_ , but my friends call me Gen."

Mirajane stared at him. _It couldn't be..._

"You don't mean…" she snatched up one of the books she was returning, flipped it open to the Introduction page, and proceeded to gape at the name displayed there. She looked up at Gen, who had both his brows raised in amused befuddlement.

 _Eugenides Ormenson._

" _You_ are Eugenides Ormenson?" She breathed, as though she were addressing a hero of olden tales.

A faint pink hue claimed his cheeks, and Gen smiled again, scratching the back of his head bashfully. "Why yes. Thanks for reading my books, by the way. It means a l-,"

"I love you." She couldn't help herself. Mirajane had spent countless nights up late in her apartment just reading and reading and reading Eugenides Ormenson's debut saga series _Sorcerer's Star, A Sorcerer's Tears,_ and _A Sorcerer's Love._ Romantic, dramatic, brimming and teeming with breathtaking action and plot twists. The young man that sat before her, smiling just like any other normal guy, was the genius behind the words that had helped her escape and lose herself. Mirajane had been elated to find that he had continued his writing career, as announced in Sorcerer's Magazine, much to tens of thousands of wizards' excitement around the world.

The first novel of his new series had been a total hit, featuring a darling side-character from his first saga, Rin. Everybody agreed, even when she wasn't the heroine of the first series, that Rin is the perfect protagonist. The emotional journey with the young sorceress was so riveting, it tore Mirajane's heart in two and fed it to the lions.

"No!" She corrected herself, "I hate you!" She couldn't help herself, slapping her hand down on the desk, her old brash self breaking the surface. "How dare you kill off Rin's boyfriend? He was so perfect for her!"

Gen cowered, holding both hands above his face as to ward off some great beast. "I-I'm sorry!" he yelped, "Isaacio was special to her. I needed character development, and I couldn't think of any better way then!"

"I love yoouu-hooohoohooooo…" tears were welling in Mirajane's eyes now. Gen gulped. "Rin completely tore Darken in half in that last chapter…" Lost in her own world – Or, rather, Gen's – Mirajane sighed in satisfaction at the memory.

Gen was staring at her. He found it odd – in a funny way – to find that a sweet-looking girl like this read his violent, dramatic stories. He was soon laughing at the comical display before him, and he stood from his chair, his smile as wide as ever, the glow of his amulet fading. "I'll let you in on a secret, Mrs. Strauss, if you can keep it as that," he whispered, "a secret."

Mirajane smiled, elated, "You can call me Mirajane, _Gen._ I don't bite." _Often._

Gen laughed, hands on hips. He really was a cheerful guy. "Alright then, Mirajane." He gestured for her to lean in, and the wizard complied, tilting in close to the young man as he whispered conspiratorially.

"I..." Thrumming heartbeats, "...have writer's block."

"… What?"

"I am completely stumped."

"… _What?"_ Mirajane pulled away from the writing genius eyes wide with horror and incredulity. "But… but you are a _writing genius._ "

" _I know,_ " Gen sighed, sinking back down in his chair, defeated, "And I'm stumped. I've never had writer's block before. It all just… flowed. But now…" he laughed without humor, "Now I almost wish I hadn't continued the series."

"I'm sure you'll break right through," Mirajane said sagely, after calming herself. She watched him as he sat there, staring ahead. "Anyway," she prompted, "I had no idea you worked here! I've been living in Magnolia for 18 years and I had no idea that my favorite author lived just down the street, in my favorite library."

"Favorite author," he stared up her, lips parted, "Favorite… library?"

"Yes," Mirajane leaned over the desk, hands on the wooden surface, smiling down at him, "You don't even know how much this place has helped me."

And he simply stared. This young woman was breathtakingly beautiful, loved his work, his library… he suddenly became aware how close she was, how little effort it would take to just tilt his head up and push forward to… to…

 _Cease such vulgar thoughts,_ he shook his head in self-scorn.

"You can forget all about the overdue fee," Gen said as she handed him back the book, "Nobody else requested any of my older books in forever. You're off the hook."

Mirajane stared at him. There was a lot of staring going on in this conversation. She wanted to say something – something to end this conversation on a good note, maybe a promise to swing by again tomorrow, but before she could speak, a door slammed.

"Eugenides!" An aged voice shrieked, "I want my job back!"

The addressed author leaned back in his chair and took in an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. Mirajane yelped faintly as she was shoved aside by a grudging old crone, her ugly face glaring down at the slouching Gen.

"Mrs. Roche… you just quit."

Mirajane recognized her, the dreaded librarian with her disdainful eyes and hooked nose, the same woman who had shoved passed her just outside the library.

"Well," she struggled for a retort, "I _un -_ quit!"

"Do you?"

"Yes I do!"

"Normal people don't just come in here and _demand_ for a job. There are rules, applications."

"Bah! Don't come to me yammering 'bout modern policy! _You're_ the one who refuses to fit in an electrical system in here!"

"It would ruin the texture!" Gen protested, raising his voice for the first time, "I have a specific image for this place!"

"Gen?" Mirajane spoke up for the first time since Mrs. Roche entered the building.

"Yes?" He looked up at her expectantly, his chest still heaving indignantly from Mrs. Roche's tirade. The way his cheeks flushed when he was embarrassed or angry… it was cute.

"Thank you."

He blinked. "For what?"

"LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU!" Mrs. Roche slammed her cane down upon Gen's desk with significant strength. He screamed for his life, falling right out of his chair. Struggling to get back up, the young man peaked over the edge of the desk and up at the terrifying crone, then beyond her where Mirajane had been.

She was gone. But her smile remained etched in his mind's eye, kind, sincere, and breathtaking.

That very night, Mirajane slept soundly for the first time in a very, _very_ long time.

…

~.~ _Present Day – Just after the Tower of Heaven Arc_ .~.

Early in the morning, Mirajane was already in the guild, working diligently.

Most of the wizards of the guild hadn't arrived to hang out just yet, leaving Cana in a drunken, sleepy stupor at one of the far off tables and a couple other nameless wizards mingling just before the Request Board.

She cast her gaze up to the second floor where the S-Class assignments lay, and gathered that Laxus must have spent the night up there – She could feel his potent magical energy, like static electricity.

"Laxus!" Mirajane called sweetly from behind her bar, "Do you want some morning coffee?"

Three seconds passed.

"No." The baritone of his voice was enough, without need to raise octave. That wizard was rarely seen these days.

One-by-one, wizards began pouring in, their conversations abuzz. A few men, including Loke, swung over to produce their usual flirting routine, which Mirajane rebuffed unabashed, reminding some that they were married, and others of their girlfriends. Before long, Levy and her boys, Jet and Droy, kicked open the front doors of the guild.

"Wooohoooo!" Levy flung her slim arms into the air with triumph, "We're baaaaaaaack, fam!"

"Hiiiii Leeevyyyyyy," the guild monotoned.

"Lev totally _demolished_ the bridge troll last night!" Droy boasted praise for his team leader, showing his not-so-discreet worship for the petite bluenette.

"I helped!" Jet added, " _You_ hid behind tree during the fight!"

"I was strategizing!"

"The whole time?"

"I-,"

"You _both_ did awesomely," Levy shoved her small frame between the two wizards as they budded heads, much like Natsu and Gray often did, and pushed them away from each other. Hearts practically bubbled in the air around the two wizards as they abruptly went back to praising "team leader" as Levy made her way to the bar counter, greeting the pretty Mirajane with a weary smile.

"Hiya, Mirajane," she piped, splaying herself over the countertop, "How goes it?"

The said S-Class wizard smiled down at Levy, already pouring the girl her signature morning coffee, the very same she had offered for Laxus. "Oh, same as usual Levy. We've got no new members, Natsu burned a forest to the ground and is getting sued by Nature Preserves Incorporated, poor Natsu. OH, and Master Makarov tried to outdrink that barman down Holloway Road, silly little man." She said in her indifferent, cheerful pixie-voice.

"How'd he do?"

"Oh, it was terrifying and awful." She said, again quite jovial.

"Ayyy, what's the story, morning glory?" Loke swung by again (this ought to be his second try this morning) with a scantily dressed girl under his arm. He flashed Mirajane a winning smirk, in the face of which Mirajane smiled sweetly in return. "I was just telling Levy."

"Heya Levy," Loke smoothed back his hair a bit and pushed his glasses further up his nose, "I still haven't gotten an answer on that dance I was going on abo-,"

"Oh! Well," pink rising in her cheekbones, Levy anxiously coiled a thick blue bang about her finger as she spoke, "You see, Loke, I'm not much of a – y'know – dancing person."

"Hey…" the girl under Loke's arm frowned and looked up at the orange-haired wizard, "Is that the same dance you asked me to, Loke baby?"

Loke blanched. "Um, of course not sw-,"

Mirajane watched on, unflinching and in total accustom to the following domestic violence.

Loke rubbed the rising and smoking lump growing ever present from his cranium, pouting as he watched his once-temporary retreating sweetheart. Or, rather, her behind.

This was life at the Fairy Tail Guild; perpetual chaos, banter, flirting, hostility, and grudging, genuine love. It was… well it was her _home_. But why didn't it feel as such? In the private reaches of her heart, Mirajane did not consider Fairy Tail a home she was most comfortable with. In the private reaches of her heart, Mirajane felt no true homestead.

And yet she smiled. She nodded, and talked with teasing playfulness in her sweet pixie voice. But Mirajane never laughed. Only her dear brother, Elfman, seemed to notice. He never brought the subject up, through the deluge of guilt in his own heart.

She shook her head, banishing such thoughts.

Master Makarov had arrived. He seemed momentarily baffled to why a bar fight hadn't evolved just yet. He usually opened those guild doors to raving, chair-flying, table-turning chaos. But no such pandemonium was present. Blinking, he sauntered for the bar, hopping atop a high stool and stepping up onto the bar's counter.

"A fine morning, Master," Mirajane smiled, tilting her head in greeting whilst cheerily closing her eyes.

Makarov studied her for a moment, mumbled a greeting of his own, and snatched a mug from the counter's corner.

"Nu-uh," Mirajane snatched the mug from her master as he attempted to fill it with some warm, strong mead. "Too early for drinks, master. Try coffee."

She spilled the hot brew into his cup. Wordlessly, Makarov watched as Mirajane twirled her finger. A small silver spoon leapt up from under the counter and, answering to the will of the S-Class wizard, began stirring the Master's coffee.

Morning progressed to noon, with wizards and mages coming and going. As the clock struck 12, Mirajane felt an uncharacteristic restlessness rise up her chest and flick down to her toes. Biting her lip, her eyes flashed over to the Request Board.

"Cana?" She called, crossing an arm under her ample bosom. The chocolate-haired wizard muffled a belch and grunted miserably in acknowledgement.

"Would you mind, um 'holding the fort', so to speak?" She offered the brunette a kind smile, fidgeting with the pink bow of her dress. She hated asking so much out of people. "I need some air."

Cana's eternally jaded expression blanked incomprehensively for a moment, before those blue eyes blinked. "Um, what?"

"Minding the bar?" Mirajane prompted, "Just for an hour or two."

The alcoholic wizard accepted after a few infinitive seconds, taking another chug of her drink. Hadn't she be drunk at that moment, more questions would have risen. So since none came, Mirajane swiftly made for the Request Board and without looking, snatched a paper from its face and was out the door in brief mannerism.

Five steps down the cobblestone road and she was already cursing her heels. Shamelessly, Mirajane kicked them off, petite bare feet meeting the cool stones underfoot.

The day was chilly, and the brisk breezes kissed her porcelain skin. She welcomed the sharp freshness of mid-autumn, closing her eyes as she clutched the paper in her hands. Wind rushed her fingers through Mirajane's snowy hair, which cascaded about her back and shoulders in wild beauty.

Much better. "Okay!" Mirajane said to herself, holding up the paper, "Let's see here…" Her sapphire eyes flew along the handwritten script.

 **Nightmare Curse**

 **Come to**

 **The Generations Library**

 **$10,000**

To the eye of a novice mage, the paper would have seemed quite vague. Though it took Mirajane a rusty moment, the S-Class wizard deciphered the meaning.

Urgent messages are always short and blunt than the usual exposition following request article titles. This just gave a location. And this was her favorite library. Mirajane frowned. She hadn't sensed any uncommon or dark magical activity at that particular library any of the times she visited. She hadn't even been aware that the owner, Gen, was a mildly potential mage, his magic but a sliver compared to the average wizard.

So what could really be the problem here?

And what a coincidence.

Humming softly to herself, Mirajane made way for the library.

…

She recognized the three story building from across the street. The exterior was brick, and at each four corners sat attentively stone gargoyles, their petrified sneers frightening. The S-Class mage paused before the great wooden doors of the old archives, closing her eyes and reaching out with her sense. She felt nothing. Now that Mirajane was looking, she could feel Gen's magic gently pulsing periodically; he must be practicing his shining amulet. The magic throb was faint, a whisper.

Mirajane opened the front doors.

Ms. Roche sat again at the reception desk, jamming in the dials of an old telephone. The hag snorted in aggravation, grumbling under her breath. "Close that door!"

With mindless will, the door shut behind Mirajane with an echoing snap.

Ms. Roche regarded her hated customer down her hooked, witch-like nose, adorned with half-moon spectacles. "Zeref's Name, girl," she cursed, "Do you enjoy this ugly day?"

"I'm sorry," Mirajane apologized as she stepped up to the counter, "I do love the cold, just as much as the heat. They both have their benef-,"

"Whatever."

"-its. I mean, in the summer it's relaxing to just sunbathe on the beach with my girl friends, and in winter… brisk, romantic walks through Magnolia. Not that I go on such-,"

"As enticing as your tales sound, girl," The hideous woman leaned forward, smiling wickedly, "I cannot say I…" her eyes fell on the paper in Mirajane's clutch. Her eyes widened, darting to and fro. "Where did you get that?"

 _Where do you think?_ "From the Request Board, Ms. Roche. I'm a wizard, remember?"

" _You're_ a _…_ I thought you looked familiar," sniffed Ms. Roche contemptuously, "You have come… to help?"

"Are you the one suffering from this nightmare curse, Ms. Roche?" Mirajane inquired formally, setting the paper atop the reception counter.

"Shh!" The hag hushed the S-Class wizard harshly, snatching the paper from the counter and tearing it to shreds with clawed fingers. "Not me. Eugeni-… my employer."

Understanding dawned upon the snow-blond young woman. "And he didn't want you to-,"

"Shut your gaping maw, girl!" Shrilled the elderly hag, "Do you want-," she stopped herself, closing her eyes and regulating her breath. "Do you want him to hear?" She asked in a less shriekish tone, scowl softening, face no kinder.

Mirajane was unfazed by this elderly librarian's harsh ways, and continued speaking in her soft, pixie voice. "You care for him very much, don't you?"

Ms. Roche's sharp gray hues snapped up to look Mirajane directly in the eyes. Their gazes held for several seconds, until the hag dropped her eyes. "Will you help him or not?"

"The problem isn't always magic, Ms. Roche," Mirajane said, leaning her hands against the reception counter. "Sometimes, a problem is just, well, a problem. What's wrong with Mr. Ormenson?"

Ms. Roche lowered herself down in her chair, seeming to shrink where she sat. An expanse of silence passed, and Mirajane waited patiently for the elderly lady to speak. She was beginning to note a softer, less icy side to the hag.

"At night, he never sleeps," Ms. Roche said at last, "Never."

"How do you know nightmares are keeping him from sleep?"

"Because!" Ms. Roche sat up with a start, "Because before the sleeplessness came, what replaced his snores were _screams,_ girl."

The young wizard frowned in sympathy for the writer. For the hag, also. "It…" she licked her lips, "it could just be a psychological problem, Ms. Roche, whereas…" she bobbed on the balls of her feet, "Magic cannot help."

"Just _do something!"_ Ms. Roche suddenly shrieked, "I did everything! Milk, counseling – curse that -, I even snuck lithium in his tea!"

"My, you care from him very much."

"Aside the point! Do you have any experience in-in _dream_ magic or, um, exorcism! Maybe sleep potions?"

Mirajane listed off the examples on her fingers. "Dream magic, I have a marginal control over. Exorcism, I'm not a priest, Ms. Roche. And sleep potions are illegal, after the Slumber Plague broke out five decades ago." Before Ms. Roche could protest, Mirajane rose a hand, "But… I will do what I can, Ms. Roche."

She paused before going up the stairs. "Oh, and Ms. Roche?"

The librarian grunted. "Eh?"

"No payment needed."

She felt the hag's calculating eyes crawling over her back as she ascended the staircase.

…

Mirajane didn't know why, but when she found Eugenides Ormenson slumbering over a spread-wild assortment of scribing parchment, she was painstakingly aware that she was, indeed, shoeless. She dug her pale toes in the soft rug, watching the chocolate-haired young writer drool over his work, a quill loosely pinched between two fingers.

In his other hand, he held the luminescent amulet, which gently throbbed with faint light through every exhale from the novice mage.

Mirajane figured Gen to be quite the deep sleeper, according back from her last experience with walking in on him sleeping, but her assumptions where ground to dust as the soft pat of her footfalls incited a bleary grown. "Wuh now El… I'm… I'm workin'," he rose his head, blinking away the sleepiness halfheartedly.

When he saw that his librarian was not his librarian, but the young and stunning visitor from a few month ago, he snapped awake. "Oh dear," he mumbled, swatting the page clinging to his lips. "Oh dear, um, hello Ms. Strauss. It's been quite a while."

Giggling, 'Ms. Strauss' curtsied, sapphire eyes twinkling. "And hello there, Mister Ormenson. And yes, yes it has."

"Gen, please," he waved aside the formality, missing the tease in her voice.

"Only if you call me Mirajane," Mirajane quipped with a rather playful wink of an eye, gliding closer to the young writer.

Gen blinked, "Oh yes, of course. My apologies, Mirajane," his lips spread into a smile, taut with exhaustion. "How may I help you? A rumored book you can't seem to find?"

Her mind went into overdrive, "Oh, _yes,_ of course," _last book I heard pray tell… ah!_ "The Arts of Darkfire."

"The Arts of…" his eyes rolled in his head, searching for the book in his reservoirs of knowledge. "Ah yes. Follow me."

Again Mirajane was reminded on the sheer vastness of the library. Aisles stacked taller than three Elfmans, with not one empty slot. They passed a young girl, perhaps 15, leaning over what could possibly be some homework. A flickering lantern lit her work, and as she looked up, the candlelight glinted in the girl's round glasses. She flushed with delight once her vibrant green eyes fell upon Gen.

"Gen!" She hissed, "Afternoon."

"Good afternoon, Harriet," he cast her a small smile, then gestured over at Mirajane, who fell into step beside. "This is Mirajane Strauss."

The skinny little girl's eyes flicked between the two, and a dawning Mirajane could not quite place rose into her eyes, practically shining in the lenses of her glasses. "Oh," a smile of her own spread, "Oh ho."

Oblivious, Gen gestured ahead. "Spellbooks're this way, yes?"

"Yep!" She looked back at Mirajane, almost slyly, "So you're a wizard, huh?"

"Nothing spectacular, but yes." Mirajane smiled back, "It's nice to meet you, Harriet."

"You too, Mirajane."

She could feel the little girl eyeing their backs as they departed further down the length of the cluttered library floor.

As Eugenides sorted through a row of thick, leather-bound volumes on dark, yet legal, magic, Mirajane came to a conclusion for the supposed nightmare problem. She rose her hand, calling forth the vast, dormant reservoirs of power, barely rippling the surface. The ripple came in the form of a subtle gleam from her hand.

But before she could issue the Dream Knock spell, Gen turned about. Arm ablur, Mirajane hid her hand behind her back, smiling a little too widely. Muttering to himself, Gen took no notice as he began rifling through some old scrolls, repeating the title of the requested book again and again.

"The Arts of Darkfire…" he humphed, "It's gotta be here somewhere. I recall picking it up from a charming little midget merchant named Buffo. Charming fellow. Did I say that already?"

As he spoke, Mirajane brought forth her hand again, which hummed with the power of Sleep Magic.

"Ah HAH! Here we go!" Gen jumped with his victory, drawing forth from the pile of scrolls a book rather thin compared to other spell volumes.

Internally squeaking, Mirajane sent the spell upwards above Gen as it coalesced into a small bubble of magic. Thankfully, the writer's head was downward, carefully rereading the title of the book.

"Haven't the faintest what 'Darkfire' is, but it sounds intimidating."

Mirajane perked up. "Darkfire is the most calamitous of magic elements. Only the most powerful of dark sorcerers can summon Darkfire, and even then, Hellfire is a safer bet. Especially if you're in combat."

All this talk about fire drew a corner of Mirajane's mind to her young friend Natsu, who recently returned from quite an adventure. Something to do with a tower…

"Oh?" Gen's eyes grew distant somehow, as if visiting someplace else. He looked back down at the cover, opening the book.

"Oh yes," Mirajane nodded enthusiastically, "The dark wizard Bealic once attempted to obliterate the moon with a concentrated cannon of Darkfire."

"The moon, eh?" Gen snorted, flipping through the pages, "How would that accomplish anything?"

"A demonstration of power, perhaps." Mirajane's sapphire eyes flickered up at the faintly florescent bubble of Sleep Magic bobbing directly above Gen. "The real reason was covered by the High Magic Counsel."

Eugenides caught Mirajane's glance. Befuddled, he followed her gaze, stopping that the bubble of magic stationary just above him. "What-,"

"Sorry," whispered Mirajane. She dropped the bubble and it popped against Gen's nose. The following shower of sparks drifted about the librarian like winking stars, and with a faint, startled moan, Gen toppled forth.

Mirajane leapt forward and caught him around the torso. "There, there," she whispered, guilt dripping, "Sorry. But I have to know what torments you in your sleep." She placed a hand over his brow, as if checking for a fever.

Now that his face was entirely relaxed, it came to Mirajane how taut he had truly been when awake. Stress, exhaustion, all of it resulting in a worn face and body and mind. With evident ease Mirajane hefted Gen's slight frame in her slender, incredibly robust arms bridal-style.

The Arts of Darkfire fell to the floor, forgotten.

…

Hours later, Mirajane had set Gen upon a stack of blank scrolls to cushion his head in a makeshift pillow. She took up a candle from a far off studying desk and set it beside Eugenides' shoulder, pulled up a chair, and waited, magical senses alert.

She had drawn with white chalk a perfect circle around the young writer. The view was reminiscent to some blood-rite ritual, though this was merely a banishment. If Mirajane's intuition proved correct…

She had taken a bell and hammer from a local church, along with some scented tweed candles. She set two below Gen's feet, and one just above his head. Taking in a deep breath, Mirajane struck the bell with her gong.

The resonating sound was faint, but it shook her bones and teeth and rattled her heart and mind, spirit and soul.

Nothing happened.

Fooled not, Mirajane sat back against her chair and waited. She watched Eugenides intently, noting again and again how creepy it was to watch someone as they slept. It didn't matter, though.

She very nearly fell unto the temptation of slumber when it came. Three-toed prints of some unseen beast soiled the dust within the circle with Gen, walking the perimeter, searching for an escape from its confines.

"Show yourself, hellspawn," Mirajane commanded, rising from her chair, alert immediately. Her magical senses were tingling urgently. "Name yourself."

There was a hiss as the unseen hellspawn touched the barrier. Blue flames erupted, scorching the demon's fingers. "You cannot hold me for any fraction of eternity, mortal dust." The voice was of a thousand, speaking in unison, hundreds of lies and identities.

"Name yourself, demon," Mirajane said quietly.

It hissed again and slowly appeared above the slumbering Gen. The creature was of a dark scale ebony, its tail forked like the brimstone demons of old, its horns a ram's, thick and curling. Its eyes were a frightfully bright green in its fathomless depths, and its shark-like grin was wicked and knowing.

"I am Bale, farmer of the feeble." It said in a waning, elderly male's voice.

"You lie," Mirajane hissed, "Name yourself!"

Blue flames burst from the circle again, and the creature howled and, beating the ground with its rooster feet. "I am Shashaka, maiden of all fiery lakes!" A girls' voice shrieked.

"No! _Name yourself!"_  
The cerulean flames of punishment writhed again, and the lying demon sobbed hysterically.

"I am Frobust of the frigid currents!" Hacked the voice of an icy hag.

"Seven lies you shall tell, and your name will ring true, demon!" She gonged the bell again, and the foul creature howled in sheerest agony.

"I am Halphas, queen of the undying seas!" A resonate female baritone broke from its scaly lips.

"Lies! I have Halphas within _me!_ "

With every false identity that came, the flames of punishment rose to gnarl at the wicked thing, leaving Gen unmarked. The blue fires sent ghostly light to flicker against the walls and shelves and books, painting Mirajane's face white.

His seventh lie came.

"I am Kash of the wicked things in the night!" He hissed in a snake-light voice.

The ring of fire writhed upon him, and as Mirajane demanded for his name one last time, the demon conceded, snarling viciously.

" _I am Ashtoreth! Daemona, Harbinger, HELLKIN!"_

The blue flames turned a wicked, flailing green, and burst upward to scorch the ceiling. Mirajane was unmoved, looking on grimly as the dark god stood his full height, nearly two heads taller than the wizard.

"You are the Black Dragon," Mirajane said at last, "Why do you inhabit Eugenides Ormenson?"

"Sanctuary," murmured Ashtoreth, his ebony scales glistening with green fire. With his curling talons, he prodded at the chalk defenses, then sniffed the air deeply. "It is my right. He is my promise."

"By what decree?"

"The decree of the one before him," Ashtoreth snarled, pacing to and fro.

He raked his claws against the chalk, and the blue flames came to meet him, anxious to feed.

"You are weak," Mirajane said softly, "You should not be alive."

"And _you_ , dreaded mortal," Ashtoreth spat, "Where should your soul be? I see Hellkin in you," his grin was foul, his breath of brimstone, "Satan's Soul. You are not merely Mirajane Strauss, but you are Halphas of the undying seas, and Sitri of the Hellfires. I see daemona in you, mortal." He chuckled.

"They sleep," Mirajane frowned.

"Dormant they may be, Halphas and Sitri are beastly queens!" His eyes blazed, "How come you by such gifts?"

"You will leave Gen," Mirajane said softly, "You will leave him, and allow him to sleep through the twilight peacefully."

"Or what?"

"Or I will show you Halphas and Sitri," Mirajane's eyes flashed dangerously, befitting her She-Devil title, "and you will taste our fury."

Ashtoreth was silent.

Mirajane felt that her heart might slow to a single beat per year. She held the gaze of this ridiculously powerful dark god, never more thankful of his weakened state. She feared that, should he be at his full strength, Mirajane would be little more than a white smudge on the earth.

She expected a roar of defiant fires in his wake as he departed, but when he _did_ leave, Ashtoreth was as silent and shadowy as a shade. Mirajane let out a breath of relief, dropping back down in the chair.

Gen stirred, groaning out softly. After a moment, he sat up, rubbing his head. His eyes opened, like peaking emeralds, and beheld Mirajane. He stared up at her for a moment, and his eyes washed over the bell and gong, the scented tweed candles, the chalk marks, and the scorched ceiling. He then put his hand to his chest, eyes widening.

"He's… _gone._ "

"Yes, he is." Mirajane said simply. She tilted her head sympathetically at the young man. "Why didn't you tell me you were demon-cursed?"

He flushed, looking away, legs still sprawled before him. "I didn't think-," he cleared his throat, "Anybody could do it."

Mirajane's eyes softened, and she stood.

Their bellies growled in unison.

" _We,_ " Mirajane stepped over to the sprawled young man, her bare feet a soft patter upon the floorboards. "Are getting some dinner."

…

It took some prompting, and Gen soon found that Mirajane was not to be swayed from her antics. Especially not after expelling a gods-forsaken _demon_ for him.

The S-Class wizard didn't want to think about Ashtoreth. He was gone. Out of sight, out of mind, as the saying goes.

The diner was a humble one, lit by round, coiling dragon-decorated red lanterns. They sat down at a lone square table giving a sunset view of the canal, where Lucy would always take her late-day walks to her apartment. Men and women on skiffs pulled themselves along with oars and river poles, either fishing or managing pollution.

"My, um, my grandfather dealt with demonic elements," Eugenides' eyes were on his ramen, without appetite. "He… well, he wanted a library for his books over everything."

Mirajane, on the other hand, was practically inhaling her noodle soup and bean buns. Who knew exorcism coaxed such famine? She listened politely, sparing Gen a sad glance every so often.

"I got the demon thing after my dad died." Gen leaned back in his chair and shrugged, "It was like," he wrinkled in nose in search for the right word, "I don't know, like an extra chamber squeezed into my brain. He never spoke to me. After a while, I guess I just thought it was my madness."

Mirajane listened intently, eyeing the librarian as he reflected on old memories.

"One sleepless night I was cleaning out the library attic," Gen crossed his arms, "Found my grandfather's journal, and found what he did to me and my dad. What he did to our family."

"In order to get his wish, he summoned and consulted with Ashtoreth," Mirajane clarified, "Offering him the host of your grandfather's descendants' bodies in return for giving him the funds for raising a library."

Silence ensued from between the two. No more words were spoken on the subject; no more weight was needed. With things like this, 'thank you' cannot scratch the surface. Mirajane knew she had freed Gen from a forlorn, restless fate. But he said it anyway. Gen opened his mouth and thanked this young woman who had come and spared him a life of mental turmoil.

He looked her in the eyes and he _thanked her_.

She looked back right into those emerald hues and smiled in answer. "Nobody deserves a life like that."

For the next ten minutes, they ate in comfortable quiet. While no specified dialogue ensued, a couple of women, young and middle-aged, set themselves up on a highly set stage, their long fingers beginning to strum at their lyres. A smooth voice wafted over the crowd of evening couples, and a few stood and made their way to the dancing floor.

Mirajane's deep blue eyes drifted to Gen, who was intent on stirring his soup. Smirking softly, the S-Class wizard leaned over to the slight young man. "Dance with me."

"Huh? What?" Eugenides, startled, glanced up at her. Pink tinted his fair cheeks.

Gen was not unaware of his acquaintance's evident beauty, and dancing with this woman almost seemed unreal in the face of all his experience on life. Second meeting, and they were already having dinner together and dancing.

So what followed from the young writer was a string of "Ums" and "Ohs" in a betraying, faulty manner. Mirajane's smile was playful, gentle as always, and she stood smoothly from her seat to gaze down at Gen, who was still stammering his way through a defective version of the English language.

"I don't-," he fidgeted, "I haven't-,"

"I saved you from a demon who stole your sleep," Mirajane laughed daintily, loosely lacing her fingers, "The least you can do is dance with me. Come on, it'll be fun!" She leaned forth just slightly, "A dance between a wizard and a librarian can't be _that_ uncommon a thing."

Eugenides stared at her for a moment, and since words wouldn't portray what he wanted, he chose that actions would serve better. And so, dinner forgotten, he stood and, albeit rather bashfully, offered her his hand.

Mirajane took it, offering a fond squeeze. "Let us dance, Mr. Ormenson."

And so they did.

Well, _Mirajane_ did. Gen sort of just stumbled along, focusing all his attention on dodging the bare feet of his partner, whose smooth motions and sweeps stole away into a hypnotic grandeur. Her eyes were shut, and with every beat of her heart, Mirajane lost herself into the teasing clutches of the lyres sweet notes.

The song became soft and melodious, and the wizard's eyes opened to meet the emerald hues of Eugenides Ormenson. She was aware that a hand, thin and gentle as fresh parchment, was settled upon her waist, the other laced fingers with her own.

Their faces were close, and soon they became very still in the center of constant motion of other dancing couples. Eugenides' breath smelled of an odd combination of toothpaste and ramen soup.

Thoughts strayed a perilous place, and both wondered what could go wrong if one simple little kiss was to be stolen.

They never got their answer.

"MIIIIIIRAAAAAA!" A reptilic voice shrieked.

Mirajane closed her eyes and exhaled in mild disappointment, pulling away from a startled Gen as the crashing of glass and tables ensued.

They found her.

Natsu Dragneel had dashed right through the fragile diner windows and leapt over a plethora of tables and people, shamelessly Gen aside like a raging bowling ball and tackling his wizarding peer in a bear hug. "WE THOUGHT YOU WERE KIDNAPPED!"

Walls raised.

"Hi Natsu," closing her eyes cheerily, Mirajane let the pink-haired dragon slayer squeeze the air from her lungs.

The way Natsu cares is terrifying. Mirajane, resting a slim hand upon his head, pondered on the notion that someday, there is a very high chance that somebody very close to him will die. What will that do to Natsu? She had been gone for little over five hours and he already thought-…

Five hours. _Five hours._

Cana.

Lucy, despite the gaping opening in the glass, passed through the door with a jingle, gingerly hopping over fallen citizens. "Oops! S-Sorry! Please excuse my idiot friend." She said in her usual provocative manner as she made her way to the two.

As Natsu released the S-Class wizard, Erza Scarlet appeared at the gaping hole, dressed in her casual armor. Well, casual concerning _her,_ at least. The tall redhead stood just outside the diner in grudging relief and approached Mirajane as Lucy hurriedly spoke, winded, on how the entire guild was on a full-out woman-hunt for her.

Mirajane soon felt a hand grab her by the back of the head, and her temple slammed into the breastplate of her once-rival. "We thought we had lost you, Mirajane," Erza said in her Shakespearian way.

Jarred, skull rattling, Mirajane smiled sheepishly. "You guys shouldn't have gone to so much trouble for me."

"What're you going on about?" Gray Fullbuster, surprisingly fully clothed, said, "You're one of us, Mira."

 _One of us._

 _Sure._

"Has anybody seen Cana?" Mirajane, now free, faced Natsu and Erza in a slimming attempt to avoid seeing Gray absently strip.

She left before she could say goodbye to Gen, who was standing at the edge of the once-dancing crowd, smiling softly.

No matter.

She'll see him tomorrow.

…

 **Word Count – 7856**

 **Eugenides' name is pronounced EU-JEN-IH-DEES.**

 **Gen is pronounced Gen. Tee hee.**

 **Oh, and if Gen somehow comes off as a Gary-Stu to you... yeah well screw you. I'm trying my best.**

 **Constructive critique is welcome.**

 **I do hope you enjoyed.**


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